


don't take it easy

by forks



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Barebacking, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Safewords, Scratching, Spanking, crawling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forks/pseuds/forks
Summary: “I want it,” Mitch says quickly, pressing his face into Auston’s neck.  “We both need to blow off some steam, come on.”   He tilts his head to kiss Auston’s ear, then lightly nips at it.Auston’s hand is quick, up to Mitch’s chin.  He holds Mitch’s face away from him, thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw.  Mitch’s eyelids flutter and so does Auston’s stomach and that’s how Mitch gets Auston.  That’s how he’s always able to get Auston.





	don't take it easy

**Author's Note:**

> If you are anyone in this fic, or know anyone in this fic, for the love of goodness CLICK BACK NOW. For both our sake's.
> 
>  **Based on[ this sinbin prompt](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3088.html?thread=2981648):** _any/any, dom-focused D/s -- D/s from the dom's POV with emphasis on what they're getting out of it_. DEAR OP -- if you're still around, since this prompt is 2.5 years old -- I apologize if this is not a ship you like, since this ship didn't even exist at the time of the prompt so you wouldn't have known to exclude it. But I had this prompt bookmarked for that long, with vague ideas in my mind while I was waiting for the right ship to come along. So. Here you go. :D?
> 
>  **CONTENT NOTES:** This is 7K of pure D/s smut, so if that's not your thing, give this one a pass. Also, I tagged it "future fic" because, to me, they would have been in a relationship for a while, are long past the kink negotiating stage, and have a certain comfort level with scening with each other.
> 
>  **Title:** line from Zayn's song **TiO**.

Auston is in one fuck of a bad mood.

It’s so bad it itches under his skin.

He hates feeling angry. He hates disappointment. He doesn’t like being out of control.

It’s not all his fault, and he knows it, but sometimes his brain has a hard time accepting the fact. He’s a part of a team, everyone needs to pull their weight, but sometimes they give it their all and they still fall short.

Falling short five games in a row throws Auston off.

Auston’s known for being mellow. Calm and down to earth and whatever the hell else people say about him. He usually is. He sort of prides himself on it. But sometimes—sometimes it takes work. Too much work. It’s a lot to expect out of him. 

Tonight he’s grumpy as fuck, he knows, antisocial and just done with people and media and trying so hard and being out of control. He stomps around the kitchen, undecided what to make for dinner and annoyed about being unable to make such a simple decision, and slams home his point of being in a shitty mood.

“Jesus Christ, Matts,” Mitch says as he saunters into the kitchen. That’s the only way to describe it. He’s smiling brightly, as always, flashing too many teeth, as always, and acting as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As always. “Don’t think you banged the cupboard quite hard enough. Maybe try it again?”

It grates on Auston’s nerves. He’s not in the mood for Mitch’s flippancy tonight.

“Fuck off.” He opens one cupboard, stares at three cans of soup, and slams it shut again. 

“You fuck off,” Mitch says easily. He pokes Auston in the side. Auston scowls and slaps his hand away. Mitch just laughs and goes in for a pinch. Auston snatches out, grabbing Mitch’s wrist. He squeezes, feeling the delicate bones under thin skin, and wonders if Mitch’ll bruise. He squeezes a bit harder, with more intent.

They both freeze. 

Shit. Auston needs to ask. They always discuss it first. He can’t just...

“Sorry, I—” He steps away but Mitch’s right there, following, in his space and grabbing at him.

“Fuck, yes,” Mitch says. “Let’s do this.”

Auston shakes his head. He doesn’t like doing this when he’s in a bad mood, it’s not fair to Mitch. He’s not going to punish him for _that_ —for many other things, usually insolence or misbehavior or because Mitch just really likes it, but not for this.

“I want it,” Mitch says quickly, pressing his face into Auston’s neck. “We both need to blow off some steam, come on.” He tilts his head to kiss Auston’s ear, then lightly nips at it.

Auston’s hand is quick, up to Mitch’s chin. He holds Mitch’s face away from him, thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw. Mitch’s eyelids flutter and so does Auston’s stomach and that’s how Mitch gets Auston. That’s how he’s always able to get Auston. 

The itch under his skin starts to settle. Warms up into something different, something _better_.

“Scene,” Auston says. It’s how they start. It’s how they know they can slip into this without any worries. 

“Scene,” Mitch agrees. 

“No talking,” Auston says immediately. He really isn’t in the mood tonight, and it’ll be good to make Mitch work for silence. “Unless I ask you a direct question or give a direct order. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll use the traffic light system. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me our safe word.”

Mitch grins. “Pineapple.”

Auston doesn’t grin. He wants to, because Mitch is ridiculous and picked it out, but Auston also knows that’s not going to just come up during a scene otherwise. It is safe.

“Okay. Finally, no touching me unless I give you permission. Starting now.”

Mitch’s hands drop away from Auston. “Good,” Auston says softly, and Mitch’s shoulders relax. He runs his tongue over his teeth and he smirks up at Auston. Auston’s fingers dig just a little more into the hinge of his jaw and Mitch inhales sharply.

It’s Auston’s turn to smirk. He loves how easy Mitch is for this, how much he’ll let Auston do. He just stands there and stares into Mitch’s eyes, and waits. He’s patient. Mitch, not so much, not until he gets settled, but Auston knows how to use that.

It’s a few seconds before Mitch releases just a little more of his tension in his body. He’d sway toward Auston if he wasn’t being held in place by Auston’s fingers digging in. 

It’s another two minutes, the itch settling into Auston’s bones as a desire, before Mitch cracks. “Please,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Auston tsks and shakes his head. Mitch smiles again and would probably roll his eyes but he isn’t ready to push Auston too much. It’s too early in the game for that. Auston uses his other hand to shove two fingers past Mitch’s lips, hooking them into his mouth.

“No talking. Not going to tell you again.”

Mitch nods as best he can with Auston’s hands in play. Auston pushes his fingers in more, nearly choking Mitch but he does well to swallow around them and start sucking. Something to do with his mouth other than idle chatter, which Mitch is all too good at and Auston likes making him work against.

Auston pulls his fingers out and lets go of Mitch. Mitch does sway forward but catches himself before he leans into Auston, fists curled up at his sides instead of reaching out.

“Go to the living room.” Auston’s voice, not cold or mean, is firm. “Get undressed. Stand there, hands behind your back, and wait for me.”

Mitch nods and walks past Auston, leaving the kitchen. Once he does, Auston takes a moment to compose himself. He wasn’t expecting this, but it’s good. His surly demeanor has churned, turning into something... focused, but for the better. Controlling the moment and the play. This, Auston is good at.

He looks down at himself. Comfy black sweats and a loose black t-shirt. Not exactly the model of dominance, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not clothes that make Mitch listen.

Detouring to the bedroom to grab a couple supplies, he goes into the living room. Mitch is standing in all his naked glory, hands behind his back. He faces the blank TV screen, but his eyes follow Auston across the room.

Auston goes to the ottoman that’s placed a couple feet in front of the couch. Black leather and mostly firm, though they have a tray over it so glasses don’t spill when placed down. Mitch’s clothes are neatly piled there. 

Auston picks them up and chucks them onto the nearby chair, Mitch’s meticulous folding coming undone. Mitch makes a little noise, and Auston looks at him.

“Something to say?”

Mitch’s lips turn up sunnily but he shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” Auston takes the tray off the ottoman, puts it on the floor to the side, then pushes the ottoman up against the couch. He drops the lube and Mitch’s favorite butt plug onto it. Mitch makes another little noise, more interested this time, and very faintly whispers, “Hell yes.” Auston probably isn’t supposed to hear—or maybe Mitch is pushing him and he is—but Auston isn’t pretending he didn’t.

Auston stands in front of him, reaches out and lightly drags his nails from Mitch’s pubes up to his chest… then pinches a nipple and tugs hard. 

Mitch gasps and his body twitches to the side, though he tries to remain standing upright.

“I told you to be quiet.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Mitch says, wincing. His eyes go wide. Auston repeats the action, but pinches the other nipple. Mitch’s eyes squeeze shut and breaths through his nose, but he doesn’t make a sound.

“Better.” Auston gives Mitch a quick second to compose himself, to stand up straight. His head is bowed, and Auston likes that. He grazes the back of his fingers over Mitch’s cheek, where a smile is threatening, and down his neck and across his shoulders. “Get on the ottoman. Hands and knees. Facing the couch.”

Mitch performs this task effortlessly, kneeling on the ottoman, his hands pressed into the couch cushion, his head resting on the plush back of the couch. 

Auston uses his knee to nudge Mitch’s legs apart, his ballsack and cock hanging between. Then Auston steps back, head tilting side to side, making sure Mitch looks right. Open and on display, just for Auston. His fucking favorite.

He told Mitch not to make any noise. He’s going to put Mitch to the test.

He starts with lightly running his hands over Mitch’s back. The skin is soft but cool, being exposed in his nakedness. Not cold, Mitch isn’t freezing, but he’s not hot and turned on yet. Auston can put that to the test too.

Next, he drags his nails across Mitch’s back, sweeping and methodical, until he presses just hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t draw blood, that’s not his thing, but there’s four thin welts left in his wake. 

Mitch hisses, tiny and thin, but not enough to punish. The scratches are enough. 

Auston does it again and again, changing direction, until there’s a plaid pattern of red marks across pale skin, from Mitch’s shoulders down to the small of his back. For his part, Mitch doesn’t make another sound, and he doesn’t flinch or move. Pride swells in Auston’s chest—his boy can be so good sometimes. When he tries.

“Gorgeous,” Auston tells him. Mitch doesn’t reply, but his shoulders pull back and there’s confidence there.

Time to break it down, make Mitch fall apart under Auston’s hands, all so Auston can put him back together again. 

Auston moves down to Mitch’s ass. He loves playing with Mitch’s ass. He responds so beautifully to it, always. 

“Stay still,” Auston says while he coats his fingers in lube. “Stay quiet.”

Mitch exhales, awfully close to a snort, as if wanting to say he knows exactly what to do. He doesn’t speak, though. Auston rubs a lubed finger over Mitch’s hole, before pushing one finger in. He doesn’t go slow, but he’s not rough, just steady and insistent.

Auston fingers Mitch open, one finger and then two, almost clinically and detached. No sweet, whispered words of encouragement. No gentle touches of Auston’s hands against his head, his back, his ass. Just a slow, methodically fucking of fingers into Mitch, opening him up. It drives Mitch, who always craves touch, absolutely crazy. Right now, Mitch has his added problems, trying not to move or make any sound. Auston gets a thrill when he sees Mitch’s fingers curl into the material of the couch, as if trying to anchor himself down, not move back to fuck himself onto Auston’s fingers. 

It’s when Mitch has himself together, relaxed and easy, even with Auston’s two fingers deep in his ass, that Auston tests him. Auston crooks his fingers and presses against Mitch’s prostate.

Mitch’s entire body trembles and he groans loudly. Auston presses harder and Mitch jerks back and moans, “Fuck, fuck, yes.”

It can almost be forgiven—Auston did do it on purpose—but Mitch doesn’t even try to recover, or try to apologize. He unabashedly pushes back on Auston’s fingers, his body bowing down. “More, Matts, come on.”

“Mitchell.” Auston pauses any and all movement, and Mitch’s sense of preservation comes over him. He freezes. He’s panting, and he tries to pull himself into a more upright position, but Auston’s free hand grabs his hip, hard. 

“What did I tell you?” Auston asks him. Mitch doesn’t say anything. His misbehavior has been caught. Auston’s voice is cold when he repeats, “What did I tell you?

“Stay still,” Mitch whispers, clear as a bell. “Stay quiet.”

“And did you?”

Mitch shakes his head. 

Auston pulls his fingers out of Mitch’s hole. “You know what that means.”

It’s not a question but Mitch nods anyway. Auston pushes on Mitch’s flank and Mitch goes into a more upright position while still on all fours. He only has to tap on Mitch’s thigh for Mitch to know to draw his legs together and stick his ass out. Auston stands to the side of the ottoman, to Mitch’s left, one knee braced up on it. 

Auston places one hand lightly on the middle of Mitch’s back, right over a crisscross of scratches. He kneads the knuckles of the other into the fleshy part of Mitch’s ass.

“Ten,” Auston says. “Count each one. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Auston tilts his head to the side, looking at Mitch’s profile. His cheek is red and beads of sweat form at his temple. “Stay still, but you can make noise if you need.” Mitch’s exhale sounds like relief. Auston can be kind when he wants. But not always.

Auston pulls his hand back and spanks Mitch’s left ass cheek. His palm tingles from the impact. It’s fucking fantastic.

“One,” Mitch counts.

Auston hits the other cheek, “Two—” and then does two in the middle in rapid succession, “—three, four.” Auston takes a second to admire his handy work, the bright red marks blooming against Mitch’s otherwise unblemished ass. He finishes Mitch’s punishment, hitting lower where the meaty flesh meets his thighs, and then higher up, and repeatedly in one spot as its turn a dark red.

Mitch is a fucking superstar, though. He takes each spank, stays as still as possible under the impact of Auston’s hand, and counts it off like he’s supposed to. His voice gets thinner, like it’s harder to hold on, and he moans and hisses more than once. But he does everything Auston told him to do, trying his best to make up for his carelessness that got him in this predicament.

“You did good,” Auston tells him after they’ve reached ten. He squeezes Mitch’s redder cheek gently, and watches in fascination as Mitch’s toes curl. “You’re amazing.” 

Mitch’s shoulders relax, despite his panting, and he croaks out a quiet, “Thank you,” when Auston leans over and drops a feather-light kiss to his shoulder. 

“I’m not done with your ass,” Auston announces as he pulls back. He reaches over to the end of the couch and grabs the butt plug that’s been abandoned but not forgotten. He knows Mitch sees it out of the corner of his eyes. Auston hasn’t told him to stay quiet again, but rule number one is don’t speak unless told to. Mitch knows better than to right now, to not set off Auston off again. 

Auston doesn’t bother drawing it out. There are other plans forming in his mind, so he applies a generous amount of lube to the plug and works it in, quick and easy. When he stands up, moving away from Mitch, Mitch lets out a low, disappointed noise.

“Problem?” Auston asks, amused.

Mitch sighs, but doesn’t say anything. 

“I asked you a question.” Auston watches Mitch’s profile again, sees as he licks his lips, and Auston knows that signal. Mitch is debating here, weighing the pros and cons before speaking. Auston likes that he’s being thoughtful, but he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. “Mitch.”

“Is that it?” Mitch blurts out.

Auston nearly laughs. No. No, that’s not even close to being it. Auston will show him.

He grabs a fistful of Mitch’s hair, commands, “To the floor,” and pulls. Mitch stumbles off the ottoman, likely surprised by the burst of activity from Auston. He stumbles under the tugging help from Auston, and a pitiful grunt escapes as his knees hit the floor. God, Auston likes those kinds of noises, lives for them from Mitch.

“On your hands and knees.”

Mitch complies, pushing himself up so he’s on all fours again, this time on the throw rug on their living room floor. Auston walks around him slowly, taking in the scratches on his back, the red handprints on his ass. The plug in his hole. 

“I am going to fuck you,” Auston tells him. “Gonna give it to you hard.” Mitch makes a little desperate noise. “Would you like that?”

“Yes. Please,” Mitch adds as he tilts his hips, ass out on display.

Auston smiles. That’s what he likes to see. “All right. I’ll give you what you want. I want to go to the bedroom though.” 

Mitch nods, and he moves to stand up. 

“Stop. I didn’t say get up.” It wasn’t an order yet. Auston has no plans of Mitch walking to the bedroom.

Mitch freezes, up on his knees. It’s like he’s replaying the last few seconds in his head, recognizes his mistake, and then he goes back to all fours. 

“You’re not going to walk there,” Auston says, voice gentle. Auston sees the tension build up in Mitch’s shoulders, and he smiles to himself. “You’re going to crawl.”

Another desperate noise escapes Mitch, but it’s different than before. 

It’s not a hard limit of Mitch’s. It’s not even a soft limit. They’ve talked about it. Mitch will do it. He has done it before, and he’ll do it again, because Auston likes it, not because Mitch does. Mitch’s feelings on it are complicated, and Auston knows how to use that.

Auston walks around to face Mitch. Mitch’s head is down, hung between his shoulders, his fingers digging into the soft rug. Auston crouches down—not on his knees, not right at Mitch’s level, but gets into a back catcher’s stance. Mitch doesn’t look at him, eyes still at the floor. Auston gently puts two fingers under Mitch’s chin and tilts his head up.

It’s the first time he’s looked Mitch right in the face since he climbed onto the ottoman and couch. Mitch’s cheeks are pinker than his ass, and probably feels even more like it’s on fire. The blush goes down his neck, it’s that bad. It’s so fucking beautiful Auston wants to lean in and lick it, nip at it, press his nose against it and breathe it in deep. He doesn’t, not yet, but damn he’s so hard in his sweats and all he wants is to get his hands all over Mitch.

He keeps his hands to himself, other than the two fingers pressing up on the bottom of Mitch’s chin. There’s still so much more time for that.

Mitch still doesn’t met Auston’s eyes.

“Look at me.” Mitch’s gaze comes up just a little, hovering more at Auston’s Adam’s apple than anywhere else. “I said look at me.”

Mitch finally makes eye contact with him. 

“You’re going to crawl for me,” Auston says. “All the way to the bedroom. Then you’re going to kneel in the middle of the bedroom and wait. Understand?”

Auston sees it written so clearly across Mitch’s face—the shame at the command of crawling, the shame of wanting to do it, the interest in a reward at the end. Mitch is breathing hard, his lips parted. His tongue darts out to lick across his lips and his gaze falls to Auston’s mouth, but comes back up when Auston presses his fingers harder.

“You’ll do this,” Auston says, “and you’ll be amazing. You’ll look so good. And I’ll be so proud.”

Mitch’s shoulders relax as he exhales. “Yes,” he whispers, reverently, and it sounds incredible to Auston. Mitch is so fucking incredible, the way he submits to Auston, lets him hurt him and humiliate him and care for him. It’s remarkable, this power entrusted to Auston. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

Auston indulges Mitch with a quick, sweet kiss to his lips, but stands before it goes any deeper. He walks around to the back of Mitch. “Go, then.”

Mitch rocks back and forth for a second, and then another, and then another, but he doesn’t actually move forward. He inhales deeply. And he stays exactly where he is. 

“Mitch,” Auston says. He knows to be careful with this one. “Tell me the color.”

Mitch doesn’t say anything for a moment, his body still rocking slightly.

“Mitch.” Auston’s voice is firmer. He needs to get Mitch’s attention. He needs to know where Mitch is with this. “Answer me honestly. Tell me the color.”

Mitch answers immediately this time, and he sounds clear and focused. “Green.”

Auston believes him. He trusts Mitch to tell him the truth as much as Mitch trusts Auston with… everything, at this point. It’s powerful and heady, but Auston has to take such care of it.

“Okay.” Auston carefully and slowly puts his bare foot on one of Mitch’s ass cheeks, causing Mitch’s body to jerk as he’s startled with it. Auston doesn’t kick him, he isn’t brutal or violent, but he does apply pressure, until Mitch is nearly off balance so one of his hands moves forward. Auston commands, “Then go.”

Mitch does. It’s awkward at first, his head hung down. But he shuffles across the floor—hand, knee, hand, knee—crawling in front of Auston as he leads them down the hall toward their bedroom. He gets more comfortable with it, moving slow but steady. His dick swings between his legs, hard and leaking, his balls drawn up. It makes him just as excited and horny as it shames him. Maybe because it does.

He’s never been hotter to Auston.

When they get to the bedroom, Mitch pushes the door open with his hand and crawls through. Auston waits, leaning against the doorframe, flipping the lights on, watching as Mitch goes to the middle of the room. He stops and pushes off his hands, leans back so he’s just on his knees, hands resting on his thighs.

“Hands behind your back,” Auston says. Mitch’s hands immediately go so they’re folded behind him, each hand grabbing an opposite elbow. It’s an awkward position, but he looks comfortable enough. He’s used to this one. 

Auston walks forward, and stops in front of him. His head is bowed, revealing the back of his neck and the long curve of his spine. Auston brings his hand up to his own crotch, rubbing a hand over the hard-on in his sweats. There’s a slight movement to Mitch’s head, like he’s notices, but he doesn’t look up yet.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Auston says. “You’re going to get on the bed and I’m going to fuck you. But,” Auston says, and Mitch tilts his head a little. “You can’t come until I do. I’m going to come first, fill your ass with it, and if you’re good, I’ll let you get off.”

Mitch makes a noise, but it’s quiet and hard for Auston to parse exactly what it means. That alone is enough for Auston to take pause. 

“Mitch. Are you ready for that?”

Mitch doesn’t say anything. His shoulders hunch and it looks like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Whether it’s conscious or not, Auston doesn’t know, but Auston’s heart skips a worried beat.

“Mitch. Tell me your color.”

Now his shoulders heave, like he’s trying to suppress a sob. 

“Mitch.” 

“Yellow. I’m sorry, I’m so so—”

Auston drops to his knees in front of Mitch. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He places his palms on Mitch’s cheeks, gently, but tilts Mitch’s head up so he’s looking into Auston’s face.

Mitch’s face is bright red, again or still, Auston doesn’t know. But there’s worry etched in the furrow of his brows, and his eyes, gaze hovering somewhere over Auston’s shoulder, are watery.

“I don’t mean to be yellow, I’m sorry—”

“No, Mitch,” Auston says. “Do not apologize for that. Ever.” Auston cups Mitch’s chin with one hand, and gently smooths the hair off his forehead with the other. “Talk to me.” When Mitch hesitates, Auston clarifies. “That rule is gone now, so say whatever you want. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” Mitch whispers. “I just can’t—I just—I want to be good for you.”

“You are. I promise you, you are so good for me,” Auston says. “You did that crawl so perfect.” 

Mitch takes a sharp breath, like Auston punched him in the stomach, and a single tear escapes and slides down his cheek. Auston brushes it away. He wants to frown, he wants to react, he wants to know what the fuck he did wrong, but he knows to keep it as neutral as he can right now. He needs to get the information from Mitch, and upsetting him is not going to help.

“Was it not really a green—”

“Yes, yes it was!” Mitch interrupts. “I didn’t lie, I didn’t. I wouldn’t.” His eyes finally search out Auston’s and then they drop again. “But I can’t be good now. What you want? I can’t be good.”

Auston takes a moment to replay his last commands in his head. Auston fucking him, Mitch not being allowed to come. Auston glances down, and he sees how hard Mitch is. His dick is curved up beautifully, deep purple and leaking and— _oh_.

“Tell me, Mitch,” Auston prompts. “Tell me.”

Mitch audibly gulps. “I can’t—if you fuck me. Touch me. I’m gonna...” His hips tilts, maybe involuntarily, maybe a reaction to what he’s thinking. “I’m gonna come. I don’t want to mess up anymore, but I can’t do that. I can’t be good for you.”

“But you are good,” Auston says, voice soft and proud. “You’re perfect. Thank you for telling me.” He leans in and presses his face against Mitch’s neck, brushes his lips against Mitch’s warm, sweaty skin. Mitch’s entire body racks on an inhale, maybe with a sob. His hands are still behind his back, because Auston hasn’t told him to stop and he hasn’t said he’s allowed to touch Auston yet, and damn his boy is just too perfect. 

Auston tilts his head, so his mouth is near Mitch’s ear. “You liked it so much. Crawling for me, being good. It got you hard enough to come.”

Mitch nods his head, and he’s panting, as if thinking about it is almost enough to get him there right this second. “I hated it,” he whispers. “But I loved it too. Because you watch me, and you—” The words gets stuck in his mouth.

“I fucking love it. I love you on your knees. Crawling for me. It’s so hot. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Mitch groans, thick and heady, and his legs shift, spreading further apart. 

Auston wants him so bad.

But this can’t be about Auston, not right this second. A lot of tonight was, but this can’t be. He needs to make sure Mitch is still on board. As hard as it is, Auston drags his hands away from Mitch, leans back, even shuffles back a couple inches. Gives them both room to process.

Mitch sits up taller. His hands are behind his back, but his shoulders are pulled back, his torso long and strong. His dick is still hard, arching from the thatch of trimmed hair at his groin. He’s so stunning it almost hurts Auston to breathe.

“Do you want to use our safeword? You know it’s okay if you do, there is nothing wrong with that.” 

Mitch shakes his head. “No. No, I just needed a minute. I needed to tell you—what I told you.”

Auston nods. “Okay. Do you need anything else? Food? Water? Are you too cold?”

Mitch shakes his head. It’s visible, the way he’s relaxing back into his body, trying to sink back into the scene.

“Do you need any more time?” 

“No,” Mitch says softly. “I’m ready. Just—do what you want with me. I’ll try to be good.”

He looks at Auston with the most open, trusting expression he’s ever seen. Auston’s insides are about to burst in wonder of it.

Auston needs to move this forward, move this along. He’s still the one in control here—although, quite honestly, Auston would go to the ends of the earth and back just to see that look on Mitch’s face so maybe that’s not entirely accurate. But Auston needs to get this situation back on track, but not set Mitch up to fail. Not after this. 

“I’m still going to fuck you,” he says bluntly, “but you don’t have to wait to come.” Auston pauses for one moment, tilting his head. “You get to come before I even start fucking you. You’ll come, and then I’ll use your body to get off.”

“Oh, God,” Mitch groans.

“Color?”

“Green, green, so fucking green, holy shit.”

Auston can’t help it. He smiles, a full watt breaking across his face. Mitch returns it, wide and happy and relieved. He sits still, waiting, hands behind his back. Auston makes a lazy gesture at him, completely opposite to what he’s feeling inside because damn does he ever want a go at Mitch, but he can be patient.

“Get yourself off,” he says to Mitch. 

Mitch gapes at him. “What?”

“This is the trade off,” Auston says. “Get yourself off. I watch you do it. And then I use you.”

He doesn’t need to say it again. Mitch’s head tilts back, his eyes closed. He brings his arms in front of him, shaking them out for a second, before grabbing his hard cock. He’s still on his knees, but he leans back on his haunches, putting his other hand on the floor behind him and leaning back. He knows what Auston likes, putting himself on display.

The tattoo on Mitch’s forearm ripples over his muscles every time he strokes his cock. He thumbs at the head, smearing pre-come around the crown.

“Play with the plug,” Auston instructs. 

Mitch takes the hand he was leaning against, shifting his weight forward a little, so he can get to the plug in his ass. Auston doesn’t have a direct view, but he likes seeing the twitches in Mitch’s arms as he moves it around. The way his eyes roll up and he bites down on his lip.

“Don’t hold it in,” Auston says. “I want to hear you. Fuck yourself with that plug. Get loose and open for me.”

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Mitch says. He moves the plug more, gasping deeply, trying to swallow air. He pushes his hips back with it, clearly trying to move it in deeper, move it around more. He whimpers desperately, because the plug isn’t big enough, doesn’t go where he wants it. He squirms and fidgets, and pulls on his cock, trying to push himself over the edge.

“Mitch,” Auston says. He leans forward, places a hand on Mitch’s thigh. Low, no where near where he would want it, but presses firmly, squeezes. Mitch nearly sobs with it. “Come. Come for me, come on.”

Mitch nods frantically, and he stops playing with the plug, instead bringing his hand to cup his balls, fondle them as he jerks himself off with renewed effort. It only takes a couple more moments before he’s groaning loudly, coming in a sloppy mess all over his hands. 

He slumps down a little, knees splaying on the floor, holding out his hands with come all over of them. He looks up at Auston, for reassurance or for help or for any number of things.

“So hot,” Auston tells him. Mitch grins tiredly, and then he piques with interest as Auston takes off his own shirt, finally getting a little closer to naked. He whimpers in his throat as his eyes sweep over Auston’s chest and arms. Auston’s not an idiot, he knows how he looks, but he never feels hotter than when Mitch stares at him like that.

“Here,” Auston says gently, taking one of Mitch’s hands in his and using his t-shirt to wipe off the mess. He’s slow and methodical, with one hand and then the other, and when he glances up, Mitch is watching their hands with too much intensity of someone who just came so hard. It’s the little things makes Mitch happy. God, how Auston wants him.

“Mitch.” Mitch blinks and then looks up at Auston. “Get on the bed. Now.”

It spurs Mitch into action, scrambling off the floor and onto the bed. Auston grabs a different bottle of lube from their bedside—the first one got left behind before the crawl—and pushes his sweatpants down just enough to pull his dick out and coat it with lube.

Mitch is on his knees in the middle of the bed, and Auston grabs him to manhandle him into the position he wants. He pulls him back down to the foot of the bed, where Auston stands instead of getting on the mattress. He pushes Mitch so he’s on his knees, and unceremoniously tugs the plug from his ass, tossing it aside. Then Auston’s big hand presses between his shoulder blades, shoving Mitch’s chest down into the mattress. 

Auston lines up and pushes his cock in with one firm thrust. Mitch gasps, oversensitive, his head turned to the side so Auston can hear him how he likes and his hands curling into their bedding. Auston leans over and presses his hand against the side of Mitch’s head, holding him down, and goes to fucking town. He doesn’t hold back anymore, doesn’t worry about control. Mitch is his to use as he wishes, to fuck open, to fuck hard.

He tells Mitch that, low and filthy. Mitch tries to nod under the press of Auston’s hand, but instead just says, “Yes,” and “Don’t stop,” and “ _Use me_ ” in a hoarse voice. Auston pounds into him, relentless, until his vision blurs and his nails dig into the skin of Mitch’s hips. He pushes his dick as deep as it can go and unloads, coming hot and wet into Mitch’s tight heat.

Cock still inside, Auston bows over Mitch’s body, forehead rested at the nape of Mitch’s neck. He kisses there softly, then nips at it, and Mitch writhes under him.

“Auston,” Mitch whispers. Or maybe he’s so hoarse that’s as loud as he can sound right now. “Please. Please. _Please_.”

And that’s interesting. Auston reaches under Mitch’s body, cups his cock, finds it half hard again. He’s not all the way there, but. Auston squeezes and Mitch’s body trembles.

“Did you like it?” Auston asks. “Did you like me using you for nothing but your hole you started to get hard again?”

Mitch doesn’t answer, but he whimpers and tries to hide his face into the mattress.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Auston says. He pulls out of Mitch and flips him over. Auston’s own limbs feel heavy with satisfaction, but he needs to see, he needs to take care of Mitch now.

“You did,” Auston says, cupping Mitch’s half-hard dick. Mitch’s legs splay out as far as they can. “Greedy little fucker, aren’t you?”

Mitch pants as Auston’s fingers slide down, over his balls and behind, toward his hole again. 

“Up,” Auston says, pulling back and pushing at Mitch’s legs. “Slide up the bed.”

Mitch does, though he’s not as quick as he was earlier. But he gets himself up the length of the bed, head flopping back on the pillow, and Auston crawls onto the bed after him. “Auston, please. Please, I can’t. I need—”

“I got you,” Auston says, hands rubbing over the coarse hair on Mitch’s legs. Mitch was so good for Auston tonight, everything he wanted and needed, that he’d be willing to give Mitch the sun, if he could. Or the Stanley Cup, which is in the plans anyway. But for now, he’ll get his boy off again.

Auston props himself between Mitch’s legs, kissing from the inside of his knee and then up his thigh. He stops before he gets to Mitch’s dick, instead sucking hard at his inner thigh—then bites down, making Mitch moan and twitch his legs. Auston licks at the sting, but then bites again, marking him.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mitch says. Out of the corner of Auston’s eye, he sees Mitch’s hand move toward him.

“Stop,” Auston says, and Mitch does, his hand hovering in the air. “What was my rule about touching?”

“I—what—”

“Tell me.” 

Mitch is still for a moment, and Auston gives him time to think, because he’s been through a lot and his mind is probably foggy. Not all the way to the clouds yet, but he’s getting there. Mitch finally answers. “Don’t touch you without permission.”

“Did I give you permission?”

“No.” His hand drops back down. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— _please_.”

Auston strokes his thumb over the bite mark on Mitch’s leg. Mitch didn’t actually touch him, so he’s not going to worry about it at this point. The reminder was only that, a reminder of who is in control.

Mitch makes a relived noise when Auston kisses the inside of his thigh again, and then a choked one when Auston shoves two fingers into his ass. 

“You’re so loose,” Auston says. He wiggles his fingers. “And wet with my come.”

“Yes, yes,” Mitch pants. “Please, Auston, please.”

Auston finger fucks Mitch and sucks on his balls. Then he moves up to his cock, stroking and licking, coaxing him to full hardness again. It takes a bit, but Auston doesn’t mind putting in the work. Mitch pants and squirms, tries to buck his hips up.

“Stay still,” Auston orders him. Mitch whimpers, but nods his head against the pillow. His hands curl into the bedding again, and he digs his heels down, like he’s anchoring himself against any movement. When Auston thinks he’s ready, trusts Mitch will try hard enough, he sucks Mitch’s cock into his mouth. Mitch yells out, but he doesn’t move. He’s trying so hard.

Auston pulls off his cock with a slurp. “You’re doing so well. Just stay still, and I’ll get you there.”

“Okay. Okay. _Thank you_.” Mitch sounds ready to sob again. All Auston wants now is to get Mitch off. 

He goes at it hard, fingers in Mitch’s ass, pressing against his prostate as he pulls out all his cocksucking tricks. It doesn’t take long, now, for Mitch’s breath to become ragged, and the most deliciously on-edge noises escape his mouth.

“I’m gonna—I’m close—Can I—”

Auston lets Mitch’s cock slip from his mouth. He starts jacking it, fast and rough, and Mitch groans. “I want you to come now. Come for me, babe.”

“Please, can I—”

“You can move.”

Mitch hips buck up, fucking his dick into Auston’s hand. Auston counter points, jerking him harder, and keeps his fingers in Mitch’s ass. It doesn’t take long before Mitch’s entire body shudders and then goes perfect taut as he comes in spurts across his abs, all the way up to his chest. He’s fucking beautiful like this.

Just as quick as he came, he goes limp and relaxed. Auston carefully pulls his sticky fingers out of Mitch’s ass, and Mitch just sighs with the loss.

Auston climbs up the bed and carefully lowers himself onto Mitch’s body, elbows on either side of Mitch’s head to hold himself up. Mitch’s eyes are closed, face slack and satisfied. His limbs are starfished across the bed and he’s so relaxed.

“Look at me.” Auston noses at Mitch’s chin. “Babe, look at me.”

Mitch blinks his eyes open slowly. He looks at Auston, but Auston wonders how much he truly registers—his eyes are glassy and dazed. Pride flows through every vain of Auston’s body, coursing through him with each beat of his heart. He loves getting Mitch here, to that part Mitch previously told him is like, “Floating on clouds, Auston, seriously. It’s awesome.” He probably couldn’t string that many words together right now, but Auston knows this look, knows what it means to Mitch, knows what it means to himself to get Mitch there.

“Hi,” Auston says, and kisses the end of Mitch’s nose. Mitch blinks once slowly, and the corners of his mouth tilt into a smile. 

“Hi,” Mitch answers, and even such a simple word sounds groggy. Auston can’t help but smile at that. Mitch hums, stretches his arms out a bit. One lifts an inch off the bed but then drops down.

“It’s done,” Auston says. “You can touch me if you want. You can do anything.”

“‘Kay,” Mitch says, but he doesn’t move again, seemingly content to sink into the mattress even further. 

Auston kisses the end of his nose once more, saying, “Be right back.”

“‘Kay,” Mitch repeats. He makes a little disappointed noise when Auston actually gets off the bed, but then he slides his limbs over the covers in the laziest snow angel ever, and goes still with a deep, happy sigh.

Auston smiles and shakes his head, then goes as quick as he can, going to the bathroom, and giving himself a cursory wipe with a damp cloth. He wrings it out, damps it with warm water, and takes it back to the bed. Mitch is exactly where he was two minutes before, but he turns his head minutely when he notices Auston, and gives the smallest but sweetest smile in the world.

He carefully wipes the drying mess on Mitch’s thighs and between his ass cheeks, and over his torso. He tosses the cloth to the laundry basket, and then grabs the extra blanket they have folded on a chair in the corner. Trying to get Mitch under the covers right now would be a nightmare. Instead, he spreads the blanket over Mitch, who rewards him with a happy hum, and then crawls under it himself, lying on his side facing Mitch. 

“Hi,” Mitch manages again. He turns onto his side, slow and sloppy, and touches Auston’s shoulder. He drums the pads of his fingertips against Auston’s skin lightly, but his dexterity is shot so it’s nothing more. He lets his hand drop between them, nestled between their chests. Auston slips his arm around Mitch’s waist and tugs him a little closer. Mitch’s smile is closed-lip, not bright and flashing teeth like usual, but he looks so fucking content that Auston knows everything is okay.

Auston cups his cheek and Mitch nuzzles into his palm, and Auston thinks, _Come back to me._ The first time seeing Mitch like this freaked him out a little—even though he knew enough to expect it, it was something else entirely experiencing it in person. Now, Auston knows Mitch just needs time to float a little, but Auston always wants his Mitch back.

Auston leans in and brushes kisses against Mitch’s cheeks, his closed eyelids, his lips. He says there, quiet but happy, “Come back to me.”

“‘Kay,” Mitch responds, but then ducks his head to push his face against Auston’s neck. Auston chuckles but wraps his arms around Mitch, cradling him as close as he can, keeping Mitch warm and protected while he comes down.

It’s a little while later that Auston feels it, the physicality of Mitch drifting from subspace back to the everyday Mitch that Auston is so familiar with. He stretches out his legs first, then lifts an arm into the air and arches his back, inhaling deeply. Auston rolls away enough to give Mitch room as he tests out his body and settles back into his limbs.

Mitch catches Auston’s eyes and his smile is big and bright and toothy. “Mmm, hey.”

“Hey,” Auston says, rolling all the way onto this back. Mitch follows him, throwing a leg over Auston’s and propping his head up on Auston’s chest. His eyes are big and bright and so focused. Auston pushes a hand through Mitch’s hair, gently, but scritches at the back of his head. “How’re you feeling?”

“My ass is fucking sore,” Mitch says cheerily, and Auston laughs. 

“You took a lot.”

“You _gave_ a lot,” Mitch says. “But, honestly, other than a little soreness, I’m good.”

“You sure? Some of that was—intense.” They’d never gone yellow before, and given some time to think on it, Auston’s a little concerned. He hopes he didn’t push Mitch too far.

“Intense, but hot. Holy crap.” Mitch presses a kiss to Auston’s chest. “I’m good. I swear.”

“Okay.” Auston trusts Mitch to believe that now, but he’ll keep an eye on him for a couple days, make sure he doesn’t drop. Auston will be there to catch him if he does.

“How’re you feeling?” Mitch asks. He hoists himself up the bed, getting face to face with Auston.

“Me? I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Yeah, but do you feel better?” Mitch kisses Auston’s throat, then plants one firmly on Auston’s lips. Auston’s hand goes to the back of Mitch’s head to hold him in place, trying to deepen this kiss, but Mitch pulls away and Auston lets him. Mitch searches Auston’s eyes, and smiles. “You look better. But how do you feel? You’ve been off for a couple days, so.”

“God, Mitch. Don’t tell me you put yourself through all that because of my shitty mood.”

“I’d do that and more,” Mitch says immediately. “Don’t get me wrong. I liked it, and I know _I_ feel fucking fantastic right now.” He tucks his head under Auston’s chin, settling comfortably against him. “But you always take care of me. I just want to do the same.”

Auston’s chest doesn’t feel big enough for how his heart grows in that moment, threatening to beat right out of him. “You do, you always do.” He presses a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “But today was—perfect. You were perfect. And I feel really great. Thank you for this.”

“Thank _you_ , holy shit, you’re the best,” Mitch says happily. “But you’d be even better if you got your lazy ass out of bed and made me some food.”

Auston laughs. “You think so, do you?” He stealthily slaps Mitch on the ass, light but enough of a surprise to cause him to yelp. But Mitch is quick and vicious in his own right, and shoves his fingers in Auston’s armpit, getting him in the most ticklish of spots. Auston yells and tries to buck him off, but Mitch is tenacious and clingy and knows exactly how to get him.

It takes them five minutes to get out of bed, but when they do, they’re red faced and huffing breath, for completely different reasons then they were earlier. Mitch darts by him with a lame and completely ineffective attempt at a wet willy, and Auston laughs as he watches him run out of the room, back still scratched and red ass cheeks wiggling.

Auston has never felt happier.


End file.
